My father is a self-taught mandolin player. He is one of the best string players in our town. He couldn't understand the score, but as long as he listened to the tune a few times, it popped up. He was a member of a small country band when he was young. They will perform at local dance parties and occasionally for local radio stations. He often tells us how he participated in the audition and obtained a position in the band where Patsy Cline is the lead singer. He told his family that he never went back after being hired. Dad is a very devout person. He said that on the day of his audition there was a lot of drinking and cursing, and he did not want to stay in that environment.
Occasionally, Dad will take out his mandolin and play for his family. Our three children: Theresa, Monte and me, and George Little, often sing together. Such as "Tennessee Waltz", "Light of the Harbor", "Before and after Christmas", "Silver Bell" and other songs. "Silver bell, silver bell, Christmas in the city" will ring the whole house. One of my father's favorite hymns is "An Ancient and Rough Cross". We learned to sing hymn lyrics when we were very young. When dad played the piano and sang, we would sing hymns together. Another song that our family often shares is the theme song of the Walt Disney series of films "Davey Crockett". My father learned to play this song only twice. "David, David Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier" is the family's favorite song. He knew that we liked the song and the show, and often took out the mandolin after the show. I ca n’t forget how he played the song so well just after listening to it a few times. I like singing, but I have never learned how to play mandolin. This is something I regret so far.
Dad likes to play mandolin for his family. He knows that we like to sing and listen to him. He is like that. If he can bring happiness to others, he will, especially his family. He is always there, sacrificing his time and effort to ensure that his family has enough life. I had to grow up and have my own children before I realized how much he had sacrificed.
I joined the US Air Force in January 1962. Whenever I go home on vacation, I will ask my father to play the mandolin. No one plays the mandolin like my father. He can touch your soul with the tone of that ancient mandolin. When he was playing, he seemed radiant. You can see him proud of his family playing so well.
When his father was young, he worked for his father on the farm. His father was a farmer who divided the land for those who owned it. In 1950, our family moved out of the farm. Dad found a job in the local limestone quarry. When the quarry was closed in August 1957, he had to find another job. He worked at Owens Yacht Company in Dendak, Maryland, and Todd Steel Company in Rocks, Maryland. While working at Todd Steel Company, he encountered an accident. His job is to roll the angle iron onto the conveyor belt, so that the welder can complete their work upstream of the production line. On this special day, the third index finger of Dad's left hand was sandwiched between two pieces of steel. The doctor who operated on this finger failed to save it, and finally Dad's fingertip was removed. He did not lose enough fingers to prevent him from picking up anything, but it did affect his ability to play mandolin.
After the accident, my father did not want to play the mandolin. He felt he could not play as well as he did before the accident. When I go home to ask him to play on vacation, he always makes excuses for not playing. In the end, we will make him exhausted, he will say: "Okay, but remember, I can't control the strings like before" or "Since the hand pointed out the accident, I can't play so well ". For the whole family, it's no different that Dad can't play so well. We are very happy that he can participate in the competition. When he plays the ancient mandolin, it will bring us back to the happy and happy time in life. "David, David Crockett, King of the Wilderness Frontier", this sentence echoed again in the small town of Beckton in West Virginia.
In August 1993, my father was diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer. He chose not to receive chemotherapy so that he could spend the rest of his life with dignity. A week before his death, we asked him if he would play mandolin for us. He made an excuse, but he agreed. He knew this might be the last time he played for us. He tuned the old mandolin and played a few notes. When I looked around, there was no one in the house who did not cry. We see a quiet and humble person in front of us. His inner strength comes from knowing God and living with him. Dad will never play the mandolin for us again. We felt that he did not have enough strength to play, which made our memory of that day even more profound. Dad is doing one thing he has been doing all his life, and that is giving. Although he is ill, he is still pleasing others. Dad will definitely play the mandolin!